New Year, New Promises.

Hello everyone,
     As there are only a couple of days left of this year, I've made a few promises to myself; I'm loath to call them resolutions, as that's just inviting failure.
     I've promised to write every single day, even if it's just a few lines. I've also promised to finish one thing before I start another, (I have four short stories on the go as well as my novel) I never seem to finish anything lately, even my orphanage story is hanging in limbo, much to the annoyance of my friend, who keeps asking when he can read it and have I finished it yet? I get so excited at the thought of a new story, that I abandon the old ones.
     Talking of abandoned, the poor orphanage, (the focus of my short story) is now nothing but a sad, broken pile of bricks.
     We drove out to see it the other day, just to say our goodbyes, but unfortunately we were too late, the demolition squad had beaten us to it.
     It felt strange standing in the grounds amid mountains of broken bricks. A kind of sadness hung over the area, we both felt it, as if the bricks, absorbing the atmosphere of the home over the years, were slowly dying, needless to say we didn't stay long.
     I wanted to take a piece of brick or wood as a keepsake, but didn't have the heart to separate it from its kin, so left empty handed, but with a heart full of memories.
     I'm determined to keep my promises, 2015 is going to be a very productive year . . .I promise.
I wish everyone a great new writing year, whether you're a beginner or a professional, good luck to you all and a happy new year.

Feel Good Feedback

Hello everyone,
     I have just received a lovely, encouraging text from my romantic interest. I started a new story based in the abandoned building of our first date and told him about it,(well he did ask) Anyway, after a lot of badgering and pleading, I finally let him read it, (I'd only written a few pages) and don't like anyone to see them, let alone read them until I'm fully satisfied with them.
     Well, he took the printed pages home, read them and text me straight away; this is how the text went....'Hi hunni, you have real talent, I swear your stories could move me to tears, given the time you could really make it, you should quit your day job and write full time.'
     If only; I'd love the chance to write full time, who wouldn't? Quit the day job and hit the big time, or sink trying.
     That text sent my spirits soaring, I felt elated and so proud. Someone, who doesn't usually read or like fiction, loved my work; if only editors were that appreciative. Needless to say I'm busy writing the rest of the story to see what he thinks of the finished piece, (hope I don't disappoint) which leaves my poor novel gathering a bit more dust.
     I know in the great scheme of the writing world, his opinion counts for very little, but to me, those words meant everything. That little text made my day and gave me hope. If one person likes it, maybe others will too, so my ending message to everyone is, never give up hope .....it's all we've got and please, show your work to other people, however nervous you may be.

Extra Time (to write)

Hello everyone
    All appears to be going well, (maybe a little too well) My shifts at work have changed again; I now work mornings only; woo hoo; freeing up the afternoons for writing,(once the courses are out of the way, I'm free to scribble) we now have four to do every month; just as well I don't have much of a social life.
     My writing is going well, so far; I've completed another two chapters of my novel and managed to do a lot of vital research, which I must admit, gave me a few nightmares, (the astral plane has some nasty entities floating around) I've also got another three short stories for my collection, only in notes at the moment, if I stopped to write them, I'd never get my novel done, although it is very tempting.
     The romance is still going strong,(we don't see each other enough to argue) We went to a reputedly haunted pub out in the middle of nowhere; no houses, no street lights, nothing....just darkness. The pub dates back to the 16 century and although it's said to be very haunted, we neither saw or felt anything, I'm beginning to think we scare the ghosts away.
     We also paid a visit to the derelict building of our first date. The place is literally in ruins. The grounds have been stripped of trees and bushes, completely levelled and with all the rain, the grounds are like quick sand, we sank in soggy clay like mud up to our shins, even doc martens didn't protect us. Scaffolding surrounds the main building as the tiles are stripped off the roof for resale and all the little out buildings have gone, reduced to nothing more than rubble; it is truly a sad sight.
     I wonder where the ghosts will go when the place has been demolished? Will they still continue to haunt the site? Or will they cease to exist? This poses a question; Where do ghost's go when they are not haunting? Any answers will be greatly appreciated.
    Anyway, that's about it for now, my novel beckons; it's sitting on the table in front of me and I can almost hear my main character urging me not to leave her in the predicament I just put her in. I wish all other writers out there good luck with their scribbling.

Prioritising (or trying to)

Hello fellow scribblers
         Today sees me frantically trying to scribble another chapter of my novel before I go out. I've decided to concentrate all my efforts on that, instead of allowing myself to become side tracked by another short story that's popped into my head.
     I've got another seven ideas for my collection (they just keep on coming) It seems like every couple of days there's a new one pushing its way into my mind demanding attention; so now I'm just writing the ideas down on bits of paper, so that I don't forget them and dropping them into an envelope to write later.
      I don't know how long it's going to take to finish my novel, but I don't think it's going to be by the end of this year, (too many work related on line training courses to do) and of course, work itself gets in the way. Imagine how much more writing I could do if I didn't have to spend twelve hours a day in that place.
      The romance is still going well; he expressed a great interest in my writing and asked to read one of my short stories, so I gave him the Tulpa. He read it through and said he loved it, (although I suspect he thought he'd better say it was good in case he upset me) Although he did confess, via text the next day, that it gave him nightmares, (which in my book is a success) and that he'd better be careful what his imagination conjured up in the future. He also said I should quit my day job and go into full time writing (I wish) He reckons, given the time, I could make it. (flattery will get him everywhere)
      Anyway that about it for now, back to the novel, good luck with all your writing tasks and remember, always let your imagination be your guide.

Mirror Mirror On The Wall

Hello everyone
      Well, I finally re-read my novel from the beginning and got myself back into the flow . . . .and have written another chapter. I've also written another short story, this time about a car journey that my lead character has taken numerous times; although the route looks the same, everything is completely different; kind of made my boring journey to work look a little different.
     On a completely different note, I took my son to the abandoned building known as the Babies Castle (where my friend and I had our first date) to say my goodbyes. Workmen are clearing the site and getting ready to demolish it. I'll be sad to see it go, not only because it holds special memories for me, but because it's a big, old rambling building with turrets.
     Anyway, while we were exploring other parts of the building that were previously inaccessible due to the wild undergrowth, I nearly managed to scare myself to death. We got into a smaller cottage in the grounds via a tiny window and as it was raining, I had my hood up. Wandering down a dark passageway, I pushed open a door and came face to face with what looked like a dark, shadowy figure wearing a cowl.
     Well, my heart went into my mouth and my stomach dropped to my boots, I screamed and almost fell over my feet trying to get away, crashed into my son , babbling like an idiot that there was something in there. He very bravely went and had a closer look and . . . . you've guessed it, it was a mirror. As I was wearing a hoodie, the raised hood looked like a cowl in the darkness. My son couldn't stop laughing and warned me of the dangers of looking into a mirror at my age.
     We also met a team of paranormal investigators who were looking for a new site. They are called Trident and investigate reputedly haunted sites up and down the country. They decided against the Baby Castle due to its dangerous, dilapidated condition, (it's unsafe during the day when you can see where you're putting your feet, but would be lethal at night) We told them about our experiences of ghost hunting there and the fact that we didn't catch anything; but then they have more sophisticated cameras and gadgets, so they may have been lucky.
     All in all it was a pretty interesting day and I've got another couple of short stories out of it. I'm over half way through my collection now; I'm aiming for about twenty, it's just finding the time to write them all as well as work on my novel and hold down my day job in between.
     Anyway, that's about it for now, Halloween will soon be upon us, my favourite point in the calendar, so happy haunting to you all.

TIME IS SO PRECIOUS

Hello everyone,
      The romance, unlike my writing at the moment, is very much alive and flourishing. Nurtured daily by loving texts, even though we don't see each other very often, maybe once a week, twice if we're very lucky, as the shift patterns of our jobs keep us apart.
     We did go out the other day; we found a derelict, abandoned girls school. This however, although very tempting to explore, appeared impossible to get into. Part of the main building had been torn down and the whole place was a fenced off building site, (which wouldn't have posed a problem, except for the security cameras) so after much deliberation, we gave up and went to the pub.
     My poor novel has still not seen the light of day, not a single pen stroke has graced its pure white pages, although I have written a second short story for my collection. This one centres around the Christmas tree and although fairly horrific, is also, I think, quite sad.
     I have promised myself that I will pick up my novel next week, re-read it from the beginning and aim to finish it by the end of the year. (Easier said than done,) as my job is now demanding that we do one on-line training course every month for the next twelve months. Some of these courses take several hours to complete and are mind numbingly boring, but as they are mandatory, we don't have a choice.
     Today should have been my day off, but I had to spend six hours of it at work on a study day; next Wednesday would see me off again, but lo and behold, I have another study day; so much for trying to write anything.
     My friend and I are planning, later this year, (if we ever get the chance) to take a trip out to Pluckly; the most haunted village in kent and see if its ghosts are a little more accommodating than the ones in the orphanage. We want to see, (or hear) if screaming woods really does scream and if fright corner really is as frightening as people say it is; no doubt we will end up in the Dering arms public house, which is also reputed to be haunted.
     Will let you know in future posts what we found; if we ever get there!

The Ghost Of Christmas Past

Hello everyone,
     I am ashamed to say that my novel has still not seen the light of day since my last entry, although I have written a short story inspired by the abandoned orphanage to add to my collection.
     While the place was amazing and very atmospheric, the ghosts did not grace us with their presence. The EMF remained silent, the recorder picked up no spirit voices and the camera captured no orbs or anything else unworldly, although I did get some brilliant photographs of urban decay.
     Standing alone in the corner of the great kitchen was a cobweb shrouded Christmas tree, complete with faded decorations. I wonder how long it had stood there? What memories it had? And how many chubby, little hands had touched its artificial branches over the years; it was quite a sad sight to behold. Once the centre of attention, its former glory now gone. Its only companions; the myriad spiders who now undoubtedly inhabit its tinsel clad body.
     The feeling in the building had changed since our last visit; almost as if it were expecting us. It seemed to be holding its breath back behind its timber frame; waiting . . . .waiting for us to leave. It was not hostile or unwelcoming in any way, just empty.
     In the small chapel that stands in the grounds, we found old hospital beds and blankets, their white fabric mouldy and rotting, while outside in the vast overgrown garden, a single yellow rose bloomed amid the wild grasses; the yellow rose of friendship maybe.
     The no-show of anything supernatural was disappointing, but otherwise it was an amazing, interesting evening and I hope we have many more.
     Until next time, happy ghost hunting.